


Training

by allihearisradiogaga



Series: Infected AU [6]
Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse), Resident Evil - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Blood, Gen, Gore, Horror, Hurt/Comfort, Infected AU, infected!AU, infected!leon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-11
Updated: 2014-12-11
Packaged: 2018-03-01 01:03:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2753783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allihearisradiogaga/pseuds/allihearisradiogaga
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Infected!Leon AU: Leon gets tangled up in a little extra training, and things go downhill when Helena tries to help out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Training

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a while since I've written any infected!Leon AU, and it's my lifeblood. Impalallama on tumblr suggested some accidental injuries and I knew exactly how things were going to go...

            “Leon…” sighed Helena, pulling the ropes off of him. “I appreciate your dedication, but you’re not really built for the ropes course.” The netted ropes he had been trying to climb over were tangled all around him, binding him tight. He had been leaping around, training on his own while Helena had been at the shooting range. She realized how ridiculous he looked and silently thanked God that it was a Sunday afternoon, and many of the B.S.A.A. agents had gone home until tomorrow.

            Leon gave out a little cry, and Helena realized that one of his large, fleshy wings was caught up in a few ropes. She maneuvered her way over to him, trying to pull back on the ropes as she went, to not have them pull even harder on Leon, as he was still caught up in them.

            “I understand that you feel like you need to prove yourself,” said Helena, “but even a B.O.W. needs to get some rest every once in a while.” She pulled op the rope just enough to get her knife underneath it. She sawed for a moment, being sure not to cut him as she went, until the rope broke into two frayed ends.

            “Not a weapon,” said Leon, grunting as he thrust his wing out of the bind.

            “Whatever you want to call yourself,” said Helena. “You can’t just push yourself forever. You have your limits.”

            “I’m too clumsy,” muttered Leon, tugging at one of his legs, which had more than one rope wrapped around it. He groaned.

            “The B.S.A.A. is going to bitch me out about this course,” she said. “They’re going to wonder why we had to destroy all of it, when we were using it, and ruin it for everyone else.” Leon gave her a look.

            “I destroyed…”

            “Save it,” said Helena. “We’re in this B.S.A.A. thing together. Don’t try to say that we aren’t.”

            “Didn’t ask.”

            “You _wouldn’t_ ask. But I am just as much about this as you are, as much as you want to be a mysterious loner,” said Helena. She cut loose the last rope that was holding back his leg, and stepped back. “I mean…”

            Helena was cut off as Leon, pinwheeling his arms as he was set off-balance when freed from the ropes, slashed with his flailing claw across his partner’s face and neck. She choked back her words and put her hands to her throat, trying to put pressure on the wound before she lost too much blood.

            Leon’s eyes were wide as he watched the blood pour from his partner—blood that matched the blood on his own hand. He tugged himself free, ripping some of the ropes clear from the course, where they were tied down. He was so careful, as he went, to not jostle Helena, who had stumbled downward into a sitting position. Leon tore the last of the ropes from his body and saw the blood that had totally stained the front and side of Helena’s shirt, and was running down her arms, despite her attempts to keep the blood inside.

            “Helena!” he said, and made a move toward her, but she shooed him away with her elbow. Shifting herself, she reached with one hand—the other held firmly to her face and throat—up to pull herself to her feet using what was left of the ropes course around them. Once on her feet, she staggered forward, but the world went to photonegative before her eyes. She swayed a bit, and before she could try to shoo him away again, Leon was there, offering his arm to hold onto, to steady her.

            “Carry you to medic?” ask Leon, his eyes trained on the place on Helena from which she seemed unable to stop the blood from flowing.

            “No,” she squeaked out, blood coming with the barely-spoken word. She pressed harder on the wound, concentrating more on the throat wound than the ones on her face—they were much less likely to be fatal.

            Leon bounded ahead of her once she seemed to be able to walk on her own, glancing at the emergency phone set into the wall of the gymnasium, near the door. He reached out, and realized that his claws would make dealing with the phone virtually impossible. Helena couldn’t speak, so if she picked up the phone, she wouldn’t be much use, either. He looked back to his partner, and rushed back to her side, his wings flaring up behind him as he went. He offered his arm, and at first, she didn’t take it for support. He offered it a second time, and she took it, her hand tentatively hovering in contact with his leathery skin.

They had almost made it to the door, slowly walking with a trail of blood dripping from Helena behind them, when the door opened. Standing in the frame was a wide-eyed agent, wearing workout clothes, headphone sin his ears, water bottle in his hand. It fell to the ground when he saw the B.O.W. new recruit holding a bloodied agent in front of him. He saw the blood on the agent, and the blood on the monster, and the put the story together in his brain. He caught Leon’s eyes, and knew that one of them would have to make the next move.

Rather than let the monster get the upper hand, the agent dove to the right, to where the emergency phone was inset to the wall. The monster didn’t dart after him right away—he carefully made sure that the wounded agent could stand before leaving her and walking to him.

The agent pulled the phone from its cradle and held it to his face. “We have a code red: Agent K has attacked another agent—full biohazard back up requested—I repeat, Agent K has attacked another agent.” His eyes followed the B.O.W. as it moved toward him, its hands up in surrender—or attack. The agent wished he had a weapon on him, but he was completely vulnerable. He held onto the phone, maybe thinking he could potentially use it as a club, now that he had finished his transmission.

            “Accident,” said the B.O.W., Agent K, gesturing to the bleeding woman, who was still moving toward them. “I tripped—truth.”

            The agent narrowed his eyes at Agent K, but let them flit to the woman behind him. She wavered on her feet, and went to her knees. The B.O.W. turned and immediately went to her, almost leaping in its haste. It cupped the wounded woman in its arms, and made eye contact with the agent. “Medic,” it half-roared. The woman tried to readjust her hand on her neck wound, and Agent K placed his claw over her hand, carefully helping her to apply pressure.

            The agent kept his eyes on the two of them for a moment, and realized that the B.O.W.’s wings weren’t raised to be threatening—they were something on an instinctive protective barrier between the woman and anything that might harm her. He may have hurt the woman, but Agent K was trying to _protect_ her. The agent pulled the phone piece back to his face and pressed a button on the wall next to the cradle, re-opening the line.

            “Callback on the previous call—I need a medic—I repeat, no backup, a medic. Do not engage with the B.O.W.—he is friendly.” He placed the phone back in the cradle. He walked over to Leon, who held the barely-conscious Helena in his arms, keeping pressure on her wounds.

            “Can I see her?” asked the agent. For a moment, Leon’s lip drew up, bearing his teeth, but then, his expression softened, and he allowed the agent to get to his partner. They maneuvered her so that she was in the agent’s lap, where he used his T-shirt to begin bandaging her wounds.

            Before too long, the doors to the gymnasium opened again, and a medical team rushed in, escorted by some armed B.S.A.A. agents. The med team gingerly lifted Helena onto a stretcher to remove her from the gym. The armed agents were talked down by the first agent, who had called it in, as they ushered Leon away from Helena.

            She was shortly wheeled away from him, her eyes locked on his, his eyes locked on the bloody tears in her face.

**Author's Note:**

> I feel this sort of sets up for possible more stuff in this AU, so I might be writing more that springs off of this fic soon...


End file.
